


Home is where your little eldritch monsters are

by Marayanna



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5 Trailer, and for Jon the journey to accept them is the journey to accept himself, no beta we die like archive assistants, not tea - Freeform, obligatory Not!Tea fic, various little monsters begin to adopt themselves into a certain scottish cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marayanna/pseuds/Marayanna
Summary: Martin reached out his hand and made a soft beckoning noise, a habit born from feeding every stray cat in his old neighborhood. He wondered, idly, what do little eldritch abominations eat. Do they eat little fears? Like fear of losing your keys, or a vague worry about the weather on your upcoming birthday party? Well if that was the case then the little thing will starve. There was no place for this kind of small worries in this world, it seemed. There was only a bone crushing terror.Martin felt a pang at that thought, followed immediately by anoh noat the back of his mind. He was gettingattached.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 51
Kudos: 360





	Home is where your little eldritch monsters are

**Author's Note:**

> Ok full disclosure, I wrote it right after the trailer dropped, so right now – after the first episode – it has some worldbuilding inconsistencies. Like the existence of the night and day. Or sleep. Or a town with people. All obvious things that could predictably go against canon when I wrote it, you know.  
> I considered rewriting it to fit in with whatever is happening in the tma right now, but decided against it because A) I’m a fic writer and I do what I want B) I have no idea what is happening in tma right now (and I love it)
> 
> Also, one more tma fic and maybe I’ll be able to spell “eldritch” at the first try. 
> 
> Enjoy.

It wasn’t a big issue, as much as their current problems went, but it was an issue nonetheless – the “tea” didn’t go away. 

Once it was done with its self-imposed task of scaring Martin, it seemed unsure how to cope with all the sudden attention it brought to itself. It scurried to the corner of the room and crouched, or at least gave the best impression of crouching while having no definitive shape. Jon went about his day studiously ignoring it, much the same way he ignored most everything lately – the howling outside, the visions in his mind, the ache in his heart. Martin though… Martin was another thing entirely.

He kept a wary eye on the thing while cleaning the remains of the cup from the floor, then proceeded to shoot it occasional glances as he shuffled around the room until finally he couldn’t pretend to be busy anymore and had to admit to himself that the small creature made him curious. 

When he approached, it pressed itself almost flat to the wall, as if cowering from him. Martin discovered that even when he was looking straight at it, he would be hard-pressed to describe its exact shape or color. It was just a… blob. A squiggle. A small, impossible bend in reality that, right now, seemed to be frightened of him.

He reached out his hand and made a soft beckoning noise, a habit created from feeding every stray cat in his old neighborhood. He wondered, idly, what do little eldritch abominations eat. Do they eat little fears? Like a fear of losing your keys, or a vague worry about the weather on your upcoming birthday party? Well if that was the case then the little thing will starve. There was no place for this kind of small worries in this world, it seemed. There was only a bone crushing terror. 

Martin felt a pang at that thought, followed immediately by an _oh no_ at the back of his mind. He was getting _attached._

“Martin…” there was a weary sigh behind him. Jon didn’t say anything else, but he did it in a very pointed way. 

Martin considered it and then crossed his arms. “Well, it doesn’t look all that dangerous. You know, comparatively. And it _is_ in our home, we can’t just ignore it all the time.”

Jon looked like he wanted to argue but he just didn’t have the strength to do it. He just looked at the creature with a mute admonition, and then shrugged and left the room, apparently resigned to let Martin do whatever he wanted. 

Martin won their little argument-that-wasn’t but somehow it felt like losing, anyway. 

He looked at the small creature that in its anxiety turned itself into a shoe, and made his lips form a smile. 

“Come on, now. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable”

.

Even though it was hard to tell with no night and no day, the time still passed, in a sense that there was still a past they remembered and the future they awaited, if not dreaded. The little monster stayed.

“Tea?” Jon asked, incredulously, “You named it Tea?”

“Well, it used to be a tea, right? And it’s not like we can keep calling it _it_ ”

“Yeah, but…” Jon looked pained, eyes trained on the Tea now pretending to be a book, laying innocently on the table. “Martin, do you honestly not mind?”

He shrugged. “I know it’s here now, so it doesn’t surprise me that badly, anymore. And I don’t think it even tries that much? I think it likes me.” He poked the book with his finger and it immediately turned into a flowerpot. Another poke, and it was a lamp now. Martin pushed the switch and it lit up. They exchanged surprised looks. 

“Huh.” Martin stroked the Tea gently, “That’s actually useful.”

“It’s just an illusion of the light, Martin.”

“I’m _really_ not in the mood to discuss philosophical differences between the real and illusionary light right now. It’s what we have and so we will work with it.” Martin said firmly, and Jon shut up. 

They left the light on for a long time that day. It might've been an illusion but it was a comfort in the darkness nonetheless.

.

“Marin, careful!” Jon shouted out, but it was already too late. Martin tripped and lost his balance, and only Jon’s quick reflexes saved him from falling down. 

“What the-“ he looked to the floor where, as far as he knew, should be nothing except for an old rug. But now that he looked more closely, wasn’t the wardrobe casting an… odd shadow? He followed it with his gaze to the narrow space between the wall and the wardrobe itself, and he gasped. There was a darkness there. But it was a darkness that _looked back._ He swallowed. “What _is_ that?”

“Who knows,” replied Jon in a monotone voice. “Another day, another monster. It will go away.”

 _Will it?_ Martin wondered, thinking about the Tea, perched comfortably on his shoulder, much to Jon’s occasional exasperation. The little creature didn’t seem to do much, except turning into random objects in hopes of scaring them, and being – in Martin’s opinion – quite adorable.

And just like he thought, the monster behind the wardrobe didn’t go away either. But it didn’t get in their way, save for an occasional swipe at their ankles when they passed it. After one of the more successful attacks, Martin gave it a very stern talking to, and while he couldn’t be sure, he felt like the Trip Your Host incidents grew further apart afterwards. 

(what he _was_ sure about was the quiet chuckle behind him as Jon watched Martin explain the concept of good manners to an eldritch abomination. And somehow, it made it worth it.)

. 

It took some time, but at long last Jon felt ready to leave the house. But instead of going on a mad chase to London to find their friends and kill Elias, first they went shopping. 

Small steps. 

The town was slowly recovering from the initial shock of the end of the world, and people were beginning to return to their usual tasks. Yes, the Fears were roaming the world now, and the Eye looked down from the sky, silent and oppressing. But _someone_ had to milk the cows. Someone had to change their infant’s diapers and walk their dog. The world might have ended but life didn’t stop. 

The shopkeepers started opening their businesses again so they could buy a couple of necessities, and to Martin’s delight the tea was among them ( _“See Jon? They’re still here. Small comforts.”)_

It was on their way back to the house when Martin noticed it. He got better at the noticing as the time went on as if the ability to see the reality’s small inconsistencies was a muscle one could train. It wasn’t the all seeing power Jon had, just a hard won survival skill, a knowledge of what to look out for. He _was_ one of the Institute’s people, after all.

The thing he noticed looked like a – well it looked like nothing he’s ever seen before but it was nothing new, nowadays. But it _resembled_ a cloud, a swarm of little dark orbs or maybe black dust specks. It kept floating and flowing in ever-changing shapes, much like a flock of birds or school of fish. 

And it followed Jon. 

He had noticed it too, judging by the small scowl on his face, the slight stiffness of his hand in Martin’s. But he said nothing and so Martin did too. Sometimes the cloud would fly high above their heads and sometimes it would hide in the bushes along the way, seemingly not caring that all greenery it touched wilted and died. The Tea, who went with them in Martin’s breast pocket, peeked out in what could be described as curiosity if one were to ascribe emotions to the monsters at all. 

Which, Martin did. 

The cloud took to sweeping between their legs as they walked, much like a pet demanding attention, and for some reason it was Jon who became its regular victim. After several cases of nearly falling over, he finally exploded.

“Listen here, you-!” he shouted, and Martin noticed with a surprise that the thing actually floated up to be at the face level with him. “Will you behave! I am _not_ falling face first into the dirt because of some ridiculous fallout of a vaping accident!”

Hearing Jon use the word ‘vaping’ was so unexpected that Martin let out a laugh and had to bit his lip when Jon turned a thunderous gaze towards him, but these were more emotions than he has seen in him for _days_ so he refused to feel bad. The creature floated in a circle above their heads as if considering, and then complied by perching around Jon’s shoulders like an ephemeral boa. 

“Oh, for the love of-“ Jon grumbled, but started walking again, anyway. 

They reached their house and just as Martin reached for the handle to open the door, Jon’s hand shot out to stop him. He looked at Jon, then at the door again, and- oh. Right. He sighed. 

Jon cleared his throat, very loudly and pointedly, and the door didn’t change in any perceivable way except for the fact that it didn’t lead to a dimension of a certain doom anymore. 

When they entered, something scurried across the floor and out of their sight, and Martin took a moment to wonder what on earth _that_ was. Their friend from behind the wardrobe, taking advantage of their absence to wander around the house? Or some new visitor altogether? 

Speaking of – the cloud detached itself from Jon and flew up eagerly. It made a sweep around the room, cheerfully killing the plant Martin bought in times before the Apocalypse, and since he didn’t really remember to water it anyway, he considered it a mercy kill. Then the thing curled up on a sofa looking, for all intents and purposes, like a satisfied cat. 

Martin did what he has done a lot recently, which was to accept it in stride. 

“We have a new friend, I guess?” 

“They are not our _friends_ , Martin, they’re dangerous. And we can’t afford to take in every stray that we come across!”

“Well it’s not like they cost us anything.” Martin crossed his arms. “And I think it’s good for them to have each other's company, you know? The Tea plays with Babadook upstairs, sometimes.”

There was a beat, then, “You named the thing behind our wardrobe a- yeah, you know what, _of course_ you did.” And Martin, who could plainly hear the fondness in Jon’s voice, didn’t feel silly at all. 

Jon sighed, then. “I just… I worry they will hurt you,” he said quietly.

“They hadn’t, so far.” Martin smiled gently. “And animals or other people could hurt us, too. It happens, Jon. We just have to be prepared to deal with that.” 

“But they are _monsters._ ”

“What does that matter, anymore?”

And Jon went quiet after that, so perhaps he didn’t know the answer as well as he thought he did, once. 

He went to the sofa and stared down at the unmoving creature that tried to adopt itself into their home. After a few seconds he reached out probingly, and it appeared to be made of enough solid mass to make petting possible. Martin kept silent and Jon kept brushing his hand over the mass of dark, glittering specks. Then, finally, he cleared his throat.

“So… What should we call this one, then?” And there was honest to god real smile on his face. It was still small and fragile, but it was _there_ and Martin beamed back at him. 

There would come a day when they would smile freely again, it _had_ to. And with each small step like this, that day came a little closer. 

.

They named the cloud The Marshall, in honor of the cat that was hopefully safe and happy somewhere out there, and in hopes that the two of them would get along if they ever met. 

And that was how Martin came to find Jon one morning, with two little monsters sprawled all over him and the third one lurking in the nearby shadows. The Marshall was laid out on his lap, the Tea was curled in the nook between his throat and a shoulder and the Babadook was peeking out from underneath the sofa the rest of them were on. And Jon… Jon was reading a book to them. 

It was surreal to see him like this, in Martin’s too big sweater, with hair slipping out of his bun, the morning light painting soft angles on his face. But the thing that gripped his heart and made him choke up was Jon’s voice, steady and strong, rising and falling with whatever was happening in the book. 

It’s been so long since Jon sounded anything but beaten and resigned. His occasional smiles and small laughs were something Martin treasured for how rare they were. But here, now, he sounded almost- he sounded almost like before. 

Martin would never push if Jon decided that he wouldn't read anything out loud ever again. But here Jon was, trying it on his own, attempting to move past all the horrors that happened to him, using his voice for something… soft.

He finally noticed Martin standing in the doorway and his cheeks went red so fast Martin worried about his blood pressure. 

“I’m… I was trying to…” he floundered and Martin took pity on him. 

“Should I just start breakfast, then?”

“Yes, thank you,” Jon replied, relieved. “I was actually planning to do it myself today, but…” he stopped, the blush now reaching up to his ears, “…but the Marshall fell asleep on my lap and I can’t move.” he mumbled, embarrassed all the more for the fact that they weren’t sure if their little monsters even _could_ fall asleep. For all Jon knew the Marshall was just lazy and too comfortable to move.

And Martin couldn’t help but laugh at that. Of course Jon couldn’t get up, then. Of course. 

And if they still lived in a world where a person couldn’t move because their pet fell asleep on their lap, then not everything was lost after all. 


End file.
